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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23213812">Love no longer lost</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalStory108/pseuds/RegalStory108'>RegalStory108</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:14:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23213812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalStory108/pseuds/RegalStory108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place several years after the war and the Final Battle: as Harry has since moved in with Ginny in their new house, Hermione agreed returning to 12 Grimmauld Place.<br/>She spontaneously invites an unlikely person to stay with her there over the summer to help clean up the place. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is unexpectedly happy to oblige.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Minerva McGonagall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>185</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Number 12 Grimmauld Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I do not own anything.</p><p>I do not have a beta, so any mistakes are mine, if there are, I apologise.</p><p>I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless!</p><p>The work has been rated mature for the final chapter- enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Hermione Granger stood, gazing at the black door of number 12 Grimmauld Place, momentarily unable to enter. There was no magical obstaclein her way, no spell which threatened to repel her; it was rather, an inexplicable knot in the pit of her stomach: dread. She hadn’t returned here since their hunt for horcruxes almost seven years ago, yet the events of her last glimpse of this very entrance, were as real as the shake of her hand reaching out for the door: their failed apparition in which Hermione had been forced to change course at the very last minute, splinching Ron. His gasps of pain, lying on the forest ground, blood everywhere. It was all so very real, after all these years. Then, there was a soft hand on her shoulder, and an arm that reached past her to fulfil the task of which Hermione was unable. The door swung open and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall took a step past Hermione entering the dark hall. There was a moment of silence, as the two witches stood, awaiting a ghost. As they had both known, the dusty figure of former Headmaster Albus Dumbledore floated towards them, looking completely and utterly ominous. The next moment, Minerva spoke in a voice that rang out in the hallway, one, Hermione heard, was laced with sadness, «It was not I, Albus, that killed you.» The figure of the Headmaster slunk away, disappearing from sight. It was not, however quiet. Minerva’s voice had been clear, and loud, triggering the much louder screeches of Mrs. Black: <em>Scum! Filthy half-breeds! How dare you befoul-.</em> The two of them hurried further into the corridor, struggling to cover the painting. Finally succeeding, the corridor was quiet once more, though, Hermione still heard a distinct ringing in her ears; Mrs. Black’s screeches would do that. A moment past, until Hermione indicated her head towards the kitchen in silence, willing the portrait to remain silent. The two of them walked to the end of the corridor, silently opening it, and pulling it firmly shut behind them. Hermione sighed out loud, «I will never grow used to Mrs. Black’s portrait.»</p><p class="p1">Minerva unbuttoned the top of her outer robes, «Indeed. There must be a way for us to rid this house of her.»</p><p class="p1">Hermione felt a twinge of warmth spreading across her chest at Minerva’s mention of «us». Then, she remembered, «Kreacher?» she asked the silent room tentatively.</p><p class="p1">A mere second later, there was a loud <em>pop</em>, and the house-elf appeared. At seeing him, Hermione felt a surge of regret for him after the events those years ago, leaving him to an unknown fate as they left Grimmauld Place. She still remembered the relief and joy that flooded her upon seeing him at Hogwarts during the Final Battle. He bowed his head towards her, and Hermione was reminded of the times where he would hiss <em>mudblood </em>towards her under his breath. She had been right, after all, Kreacher was nice to those who treated him with kindness. Thus, instead, he said, «Miss Granger. Master Harry Potter asked me to return to Grimmauld Place and serve you.»</p><p class="p1">In return, Hermione gave him a warm smile, «Thank you, Kreacher, I would appreciate that, if you wouldn’t mind.» Hermione’s past with founding S.P.E.W. kept her from being thoroughly pleased at having an house-elf serve her, but she knew Kreatcher would appreciate being back at his family home. </p><p class="p1">A couple of hours later, Hermione and Minerva sat comfortably in front of the fire in the kitchen, each in a soft chair; Minerva had transfirgured one of the chairs at the dining room table into a more comfortable lounge chair. Hermione sat, feeling her appetite wonderfully sated by Kreacher’s meal: steak and kidney pie- a meal he’d promised her long ago, only just fulfilled. She sat sipping her butter beer, as she glanced over at Minerva who was cradling a warm cup of tea in her hands, «Thank you.» she whispered, her gaze remaining fixed on Minerva’s hands, who looked up.</p><p class="p1">«Whatever for, dear?» she replied, her emerald eyes meeting Hermione’s.</p><p class="p1">At that, Hermione raised an eyebrow, «At accompanying me here, of course. And offering to stay and help.» The answer couldn’t have been more obvious to her.</p><p class="p1">The gaze upon her now was one far from that of Professor McGonagall, rather, surmised Hermione, that of Minerva, who smiled softly, «I like to think we’ve grown closer this last semester at Hogwarts; I was rather pleased you invited me.»</p><p class="p1">Indeed, the last semester had been one of the lighter periods in Hermione’s life after the war. After finishing her studies at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she had left to travel, to search for the person she wanted to be. And she had done so in solitude. It had been an unusual, albeit conscious choice. The year traveling with Harry and Ron to recover horcruxes had left no room for such musings; it had been essential for her to find out who she was outside of being a student on a mission. It had been all she’d known, always driven by a strong purpose, leading the three of them on a task that would determine the fate of every member of their community. It had been a heavy weight to bear, nearly impossible. It wasn’t until a couple of years later, when Hermione was left to decide for herself, that she could try and find her own purpose. She still wasn’t sure, but she had grown more comfortable with the person she was now. Therefore, she had returned to Hogwarts last semester, to pursue the role as teaching assistant in the subject of Charms, alongside Professor Filius Flitwick. While it hadn’t been her aim to return to Hogwarts to teach, she felt continuously drawn to the place that had been her home away from home for so long. With no real ties to the Muggle world after her parents, she felt it was only natural. While there, she’d started forming a companionship with Minerva. It was unexpected, however not, unwelcome. They had spent countless evenings in deep conversation, over any and all subjects. Many times of course, it had been related to matters of the school. Other times, it had become more personal, and Hermione had learned things about Minerva she suspected few else knew; she felt privileged. She could now imagine Minerva as a young girl, surrounded by the Scottish Highlands of her childhood home. She could truly see her now; no longer the mere professor she’d once known.</p><p class="p1">Hermione returned the smile at Minerva, a twinkle in her eye as she settled her butter beer at the small table between them. «I fear there’s a lot of work to do here, I can’t imagine a single person having been here after the events during the war.» Hermione stated as her gaze returned to the crackling fire.</p><p class="p1">«I believe you’re quite right.» Minerva agreed.</p><p class="p1">There was a brief silence between them once more, before Hermione spoke up, «Last time we were here, we slept in the sitting room, on the upper floor- it seemed to be the safest at the time. Shall we try that?» Hermione knew her suggestion left no indication that they sleep in separate rooms, and the thought of sharing with Minerva, even if it was a sitting room, caused her cheeks to flush ever so slightly. Minerva nodded, seemingly undeterred, or unaware by the notion.</p><p class="p1">In silent agreement, the two of them rose from their seats, Hermione bidding Kreacher a good night, who retreated into his cupboard.</p><p class="p1">They made their way out the kitchen door, quietly tip-toeing past the portrait of Mrs. Black, up the undulating stairs. Reaching the second landing, Hermione knew which door to reach for, even in the dark. As she did, she could feel Minerva close by, her hand coming to rest uncertainly on her shoulder. The door swung open, and Hermione murmured <em>lumos</em> under her breath, the tip of her wand ignited with a blue-ish light illuminating the space before them. It was exactly the way she remembered it, and for a moment, the feeling in the pit of her stomach returned, however it was fleeting; Minerva’s hand on her shoulder providing comfort. The room was dark, if not for the tip of her wand. There was a fire place at one end of the room, two sofas facing one another; the ones they’d slept on last time they were here. Everything about the room was dark; the furniture, the walls, the heavy curtains draped at the windows. Hermione almost jumped as the hand on her shoulder left her, and she noticed Minerva moving around the room in utter silence; undoubtedly her animagus traits aiding her as she inspected the room. A minute passed, then another, and yet another, and Minerva seemed satisfied that there were no imminent threats. With a graceful wave of her wand, the candles in the room were lit, flooding it with much needed, warm light.</p><p class="p1">With her own silent <em>nox</em>, Hermione’s wandtip provided light no more.</p><p class="p1">Minerva’s gaze was upon one of the sofas; lying haphazardly draped over its armrest was a maroon scarf. Hermione recognised it to be her own.</p><p class="p1">«You must have left in a hurry.» Minerva commented into the silent room, apparently recognising it as well, to Hermione’s surprise.</p><p class="p1">Hermione moved to pick it up, sitting down onto the couch, indicating for Minerva to do the same, who then sat down opposite her.</p><p class="p1">She realised that Minerva was not familiar with the events of Grimmauld Place, and thus proceeded in recounting the story of their attempt at infiltrating the Ministry of Magic, retrieving the Horcrux from Dolores Umbridge. At the mention of her name, Minerva’s nose wrinkled in disgust; it seemed she too harboured rather murderous feelings towards the former Professor. Further, Hermione told her about their less than successful escape, the effects of polyjuice potion wearing off sooner than they could expect. Then, upon escaping into the wooded area, having to act quickly with dittany on Ron’s splinched arm. Even though Hermione had thought about all this only hours earlier, retelling it gave her chills, causing her to visibly shudder. At that, Minerva leaned forward, taking her hand. «You are <em>so</em> brave.» she whispered, and for a moment Hermione felt the comment to be unjust, undeserving. Yet, the determination in Minerva’s eyes gave her pause, and she smiled weakly.</p><p class="p1">«It’s strange; I feel as though we’ve spoken about everything, yet, I haven’t told you about many things that happened that year.» Hermione said, as she gave Minerva’s hand a gentle squeeze.</p><p class="p1">Minerva sighed, «What happened that year don’t define you.» her Scottish seemed clearer there, and Hermione cherished it for a moment, appreciating Minerva’s statement more than she could ever know.</p><p class="p1">The two witches settled into a comfortable topic of conversation, wholly unrelated to anything too personal. Hermione started to notice Minerva in a light she hadn’t before; the way her eyes glistened with passion when she shared her opinion on something she cared about; the way the firelight danced across her delicate skin; the way a loose strand of dark hair curled at the sides of her face, having escaped her normally strict bun. It pulled her attention from Minerva’s comment on the latest issue of <em>Transfiguration Today</em>. And now it dawned upon her, the increasing desire to remain close to the woman opposite her, every hour, every minute of the day. Yet, she wasn’t quite ready to form it into words, not even in her own mind. She was torn from her thoughts by Minerva’s expectant eyes upon her, and she flushed slightly.</p><p class="p1">«I’m sorry Minerva, my mind was elsewhere.» she admitted, meeting the woman’s gaze with an apologetic smile.</p><p class="p1">In return, Minerva leaned back into the sofa, «It’s quite alright dear, it’s getting late. We should try and get some sleep.»</p><p class="p1">Hermione agreed and made her way to the nearby bathroom to brush her teeth and change. Bringing her beaded bag, she gave Minerva another smile and made for the door.</p><p class="p1">Upon returning from the rather cold hallway, she realised that her subconscious choice of nightwear was not ideal. The short nightdress was of a light creamy white colour, its spaghetti straps lying delicately against her collar bones; its silken fabric too thin. She suddenly became embarrassed by that fact that she was freezing, quite evident in the peak of her breasts. Minerva had turned as she entered the room, but quickly averted her eyes, busying herself with her task at hand: transfiguring the two sofas into two more comfortable beds. After a moment, she gestured, «I took the liberty, I hope you don’t mind.» Minerva’s own flush had receded as fast as it had appeared, ever composed; if Hermione hadn’t been paying attention, she would have missed it.</p><p class="p1">She smiled, «that’s wonderful Minerva. They are surely much more comfortable than the sofas.» Hermione went on, wishing to distract her own body from the cold, but the soft cushions and quilts looked far too inviting.</p><p class="p1">Minutes later, they had both settled into their separate beds, Minerva having just returned from the bathroom. She was dressed in an oddly buttoned up night gown. It was one that Hermione doubted to be any comfortable at all, but she made no comment. The lights went out by a single stroke of Minerva’s arm, and then it was silent. Hermione pulled the sheets close around her, she really couldn’t understand that it could be this cold during summer. Content, she looked into the darkness, at the spot where she knew Minerva lay, and whispered, «Goodnight, Minerva.»</p><p class="p1">A moment passed, «Goodnight, Hermione.» came the Headmistresses’ soft voice in return.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>She was running down a dark corridor that seemed to be never-ending. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her, nearly tripping over her feet. The walls were closing around her, and it was all she could do not to get stuck. Suddenly, several doors appeared in front of her, and she violently crashed into the one directly in front of her. Without thinking, she wrenched it open, stepping over the threshold, into nothingness. She was plummeting fast, faster. Before she could summon a spell, she hit the floor with a crash. </em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>A streak of light. She was ducking behind a desk that had been thrown sideways, aiming stunning spells at a figure she couldn’t see clearly. </em> <b> <em>Stupify! Stupify! Stupify!</em> </b> <em> She willed the figure to topple over, but he did not. He merely turned and met her gaze with black, soulless eyes. A flick of his wand, and his spell caused a deep gash across her abdomen. She looked down as blood seeped through her shirt, like acrylic paint in water. Hot, searing pain consumed her, blinding her vision, her knees buckled; surely, she was dying. </em></p><p class="p1">Hermione shot up in bed, realising that she was screaming. The next second, light flooded darkness, and Minerva was there, hovering over her with worry etched in her face. Hermione’s mouth closed shut, yet she tore away the covers, frantically feeling her stomach, expecting warm blood. There was none. Though she knew, deep down that there wouldn’t be, relief washed over her, and she slumped back into the pillows, turning to look up at Minerva, who stared.</p><p class="p1">Hermione spoke, and realised she was slightly breathless, «Nightmare.»</p><p class="p1">Minerva kept staring, still as worried as before, «You don’t say...» she stated, lowering herself to sit down on the edge of Hermione’s bed. Her gaze softened, and she looked at her with such understanding, that it compelled Hermione to speak, «It hasn’t been this vivid since...» she started, and swallowed hard, «since the war.» she paused again, looking up at Minerva with increasing uncertainty, who for her part seemed to understand. So, she took Hermione’s hand in her own, brought it to her lips, kissing it gently before holding it firmly between her own two hands. The gesture surprised Hermione, but she welcomed it very much nonetheless; giving her strength to move on, «The nightmares, they’re always the same: the events at the Ministry when we went there during our fifth year. When Harry was convinced that-» she abruptly halted, but willing herself to speak his name, «Voldemort,» she looked up at Minerva, expecting a flinch across her delicate features, but she did not shy away, so Hermione continued, «that he was torturing Sirius.» it felt odd mentioning his name while residing in the house formerly owned by him. «A lot happened that night.»</p><p class="p1">Hermione felt Minerva’s fingers softly stroking the back of her hand, still not uttering a word, seemingly understanding that Hermione didn’t want to talk about it anymore.</p><p class="p1">Suddenly, another thought hit her, «The portrait?»</p><p class="p1">Though not offering any more explanation, it seemed to be unnecessary, «I was already awake before you started screaming.» Minerva started, looking kindly and patiently at Hermione, «I sensed something was wrong, thus I cast a <em>muffliato</em>.»</p><p class="p1">Silence fell between them once more, and Hermione was soothed by Minerva’s close proximity.</p><p class="p1">«Nightmares are peculiar, sometimes more real than any memory.» Minerva spoke then, just above a whisper.</p><p class="p1">A short silence fell between them, before Minerva asked, «Is there anything you do, to calm yourself after a particularly horrible nightmare?»</p><p class="p1">She hadn’t let go of Hermione’s hand, something which Hermione felt to be of more comfort than anything she could think of. «Not really.» Hermione replied, speaking the truth.</p><p class="p1">Minerva let go of her hand, and instantly, she missed how it felt, her hand between Minerva’s. «I’m right here, shall you need anything.»</p><p class="p1">Hermione desperately wanted to say <em>yes</em>, there is something. She wanted to crawl into the narrow bed with Minerva, laying her hand above her heart and feel it beating. To hear Minerva’s calm breaths, steadying her, soothing her. She wanted to feel Minerva’s arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly. Instead, she settled for a soft but sincere «thank you» before the both of them settled once more, waiting for sleep to overcome them.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Boggart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My dears,</p><p>here an update to the story- which you'll see, I've also changed the title, I found this more fitting. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Minerva McGonagall lay awake in the early hours of morning, staring up at the ceiling, contemplating. During the past night, she had only managed to get a few hours of sleep, torn between her worry for Hermione, and her own need to remain at arm’s length. She was at war with herself: a part of her wanted to be there for Hermione, in <em>any</em> capacity she could; while the other, was revolted by the mere thought. Her experience of life offered disappointingly little on this matter; never before had she been faced with such a dilemma. Hermione was indeed a former student, but she was far from the child Minerva had once known at school. Hermione was in all aspects of the term, a woman; she was intelligent, well-informed about nearly all topics they had discussed, very clearly brave, more than deserving and suited to be a Gryffindor, and even more clearly, quite stunning in all respects. This, Minerva had noticed during the past year, spending an increasing amount of time with the fellow witch. She had come to regard her as a friend, <em>perhaps more</em>, a voice whispered somewhere in the back of her head. At that, Minerva briefly thought about the night before, seeing Hermione standing there, in her very pretty nightdress, which had caressed her body delicately, deliciously. Then, the heat that had spread across her own body, followed by shame; it was inappropriate, yet she couldn’t help it. She forced herself to abandon the trail of thought, as she turned around on her side, glancing over at Hermione who still slept peacefully. It seemed that the nightmares had left her at peace, for now.</p><p class="p1">It wasn’t very much later that Minerva made her way down to the kitchen, taking care to move soundlessly out of the room, not wanting to wake Hermione.</p><p class="p1">Kreatcher was walking across the kitchen floors, preparing breakfast, and the wonderful smell of freshly brewed coffee hit her nostrils.</p><p class="p1">«Good morning, Headmistress.» Kreatcher said in his raspy voice, not looking up at her from setting the table.</p><p class="p1">Minerva smiled kindly down at the house-elf, «Good morning.» </p><p class="p1">The elf handed her a cup of coffee, and Minerva relished for a moment, in the silence but the soft crackling of fire and the taste of coffee; mornings could be wonderful.</p><p class="p1">This was how she had spent many mornings that passed in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. She would normally wake an hour or so before Hermione, settling herself in the kitchen while awaiting Hermione. And every morning, Hermione would apologise for waking up late, though it wasn’t late at all; normally about 8am. And every morning, Minerva would smile, and wave off her apology, instead pouring her a cup of coffee. Their days were spent inside the house, moving from room to room, making it increasingly more habitable. Minerva was aware that Molly Weasley had spent much time all those years ago making similar efforts to rid the house of magical pests. However, since the house had been unoccupied since the war and the necessary upkeep, much of the same pests had returned. One day, the two of them had spent a considerable amount of time ridding one of the rooms on the upper floor of doxies, vicious little things. Minerva had been surprised as Hermione pulled a bottle of doxycide out of her beaded bag, spraying it at them with great effect. The creatures froze mid-air, falling to the floor, permitting them to pick them up safely and placing them into a cage. The intent was to send them off to live in the Forbidden Forest at the Hogwarts grounds. It was during this occasion, that the doxycide had missed on of the doxies, and it flew aggressively at Hermione, provoking Minerva to hit the tiny creature with a Knockback curse. Hermione yelped and jumped backwards, crashing into Minerva, who for her part grabbed onto the other woman to prevent herself from falling over. Hermione laughed, «Oh, I’m so sorry!» she said between chuckles.</p><p class="p1">Minerva was momentary unable to distance herself from Hermione, entranced by her; arms still clutched around her waist. Hermione’s laughter died down, and Minerva found herself staring into soft, brown eyes; stunningly beautiful. Time stilled, and the air around them seemed to thicken, pulling them towards one other. Minerva took in everything about the woman in her arms, her smile, her golden brown locks that fell easily over her shoulders, the hands that had settled themselves on Minerva’s hips. Hermione’s lips were slightly parted, and looked irresistibly inviting; flush and pink. But Minerva’s reason got the better of her, and she quickly retreated several steps, distancing herself, unwilling to be enthralled, «No, <em>I’m</em> sorry Hermione.» she said then, before turning and exiting the room, leaving a rather stunned Hermione behind.</p><p class="p1">Minerva considered the moment, it had been far too close. Only at the very last second, had she managed to pull herself away. There was no denying now, there were definite… feelings. All she wished for was to suppress them, but if there was something she’d learned in the past; doing so would cause more damage than good. Yet, over the next days, Minerva minimised her contact with Hermione, only permitting herself to be close when she felt it absolutely necessary. She couldn’t avoid meal times, or any of the tasks demanded of them while staying at the former Black’s home. While doing so, she noticed a definite change in Hermione’s mood and energy; she seemed slightly impatient and withdrawn, and Minerva realised that she herself had caused this rift. She pretended that she didn’t mind, and went on as she had done for the following days; but Minerva McGonagall was not good at pretending, feeling agitated and rather saddened.</p><p class="p1">It was a day forming itself to be like the days prior, the two of them occupying themselves with tasks that required little communication. Minerva stood, staring at the covered portrait of Mrs. Walburga Black, musing on the ways around the Permanent Sticking Charm. It was completely silent in the dark corridor, which left Minerva to her thoughts. As she stood though, her Animagus sense picked up a faint sound, and she had to strain her ears to listen. After several moments, it became clear that it was the distinct sound of someone whimpering. Alarmed, Minerva strode quickly up the stairs, her robes billowing behind her. Following the sound, she stopped dead in front of the upper floor sitting room, peaking through the door that was left slightly ajar. The sight that met her, broke her heart.</p><p class="p1">Hermione was lying in a heap on the floor, in front of a figure hovering just before her; the lifeless form of Minerva. The headmistress was momentarily horrorstruck at seeing her own body, colourless, cold; dead. What pained her more though, were Hermione’s gut wrenching sobs, growing louder. Throwing her inner turmoil aside, she burst into the room aiming her 9 1/2, fir and dragon heartstring wand at what she realised to be a Boggart, and for a moment, the face of Lord Voldemort formed before her.It barely affected her: filled with determination, she uttered <em>Riddikulus;</em> and the boggart was gone.</p><p class="p1">Minerva didn’t think then, merely fell to her knees next to Hermione’s trembling form, gathering her into her arms. She pulled the other witch closer to her, holding her close, stroking her back, whispering soft words of comfort into her ear. She pressed a kiss to side of Hermione’s head, and at that moment, Minerva didn’t care, all she wanted as to soothe Hermione.</p><p class="p1">They sat like that for several minutes, Minerva’s arms strongly wrapped around Hermione, until her sobs started to fade, and she pulled back slightly, looking up at Minerva with tearful eyes. She gazed with such intensity that Minerva’s mind emptied of thought, all worry comfortably dissipating: it was serene. She watched, and Hermione’s face edged closer, and Minerva’s eyes flicked down to the other woman’s lips. When her eyes locked onto Hermione’s, their lips met, ever softly, tentatively, experimentally. Minerva’s eyes closed, and as their kiss deepened, wonderful sparks erupted between them. It shook Minerva back to reality and she pulled back, intending to distance herself from Hermione once more. To her surprise, Hermione’s took hold of her hands, preventing her retreat, «Shh.» she whispered; and Minerva was unable to move, her wrists held firmly by Hermione’s warm hands. «Tell me, Minerva, why are you resisting this?»</p><p class="p1">Minerva’s mouth opened to speak, «I-» she started, not knowing where to begin. Hermione’s grip on her wrists tightened almost painfully, «We’re both adults. This is what I want.» she smiled shyly, gesturing between them. Minerva was speechless; of course, she had thought about what it would be like to have a romantic relationship with the woman before her, but she had generally denied herself the pleasure of imagining. Yet, she knew she yearned for it; she was delighted by the way it felt to have Hermione’s hands on her, not even to mention the mind-altering kiss they had just shared. Of course, she wanted it, but could it be? She looked into the depths of expectant brown eyes, sighing, «Of course, I want this. I want you.» Minerva admitted freely, even surprised in herself for uttering her confession so easily; it felt like the world was no longer pressing down on her shoulders, and sweet relief washed over her.</p><p class="p1">Hermione didn’t say anything, rather loosened her grip on Minerva’s wrists, letting her hands travel up her arms, her shoulders, coming to rest on the sides of her face. She just stared into Minerva’s eyes, in a way that made her forget about the world; and then, she closed the distance between them, and kissed her once more.</p><p class="p1">«The boggart?» Minerva asked once the two of them were seated in the kitchen for dinner a couple of hours later.</p><p class="p1">Hermione hesitated, looking away, seemingly embarrassed. Minerva reached out across the table taking her hand, she valued the fact that she could, and that she was letting herself. At the contact, Hermione looked up, meeting Minerva’s gaze, «It wasn’t you, at first...» she trailed off slightly, «It was everyone I cared about, dead.» she paused once more, biting her lip in a way Minerva found quite endearing, «My feelings for, er... you,» she looked up at her with a cautious smile, and Minerva smiled warmly in return, apparently providing Hermione with newfound resolve, «My feelings for you must have altered my greatest fear; losing you.»</p><p class="p1">At the statement, Minerva felt the strange sensation at her heart breaking <em>and</em> swelling simultaneously; knowing that Hermione’s feelings towards her were of such strength. With renewed determination of her own, Minerva gripped Hermione’s hand, «I’m not going anywhere.»</p><p class="p1">Hermione looked up at her, «Minerva?» she started, looking at her with curious eyes.</p><p class="p1">«Hmm?»</p><p class="p1">«How is it that you seem so, well, composed with everything? I feel like I’m crying every five minutes!» she chuckled.</p><p class="p1">Minerva considered for a few moments, «I have lived through three wars. None of which have been any easier to live through.» she started, feeling her heart grow heavy with loss, «There are times I find it more difficult, but I’ve grown accustomed to bearing the weight.»</p><p class="p1">Now, Hermione reached and took Minerva’s hands, «You don’t need to bear it alone.»</p><p class="p1">«Some day, I’ll tell you about it.» Minerva smiled at the way Hermione nodded in understanding, recognising that pain like that isn’t easily shared; and she didn’t press any further. Grateful, Minerva squeezed Hermione’s hands reassuringly.</p><p class="p1">They sat, enjoying dinner, an affair much lighter than it had been in several days, weeks perhaps,and Minerva let her mind wander freely. She still harboured feelings of restraint, a voice tugging at her, telling her she shouldn’t. But for the first time, she managed to acknowledge it, while accepting that it was alright, she could permit herself to <em>feel</em>: the butterflies in the stomach, the way her heart yearned, how she melted completely at Hermione’s touch. It would take time, she realised; she had been at war with herself too long; it had started to become inherent to her. But no more, she was ready to give in, to give herself freely, to trust in Hermione; because she knew that it would lead to something great; to something magical.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Bound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, here it is: the final chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope that I have done them justice.</p><p>As always, any mistakes are mine.</p><p>Thank you for reading,</p><p>xoxo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It was in the late afternoon that Hermione sat by herself, on the upper floor leaning against the windowsill, staring out on the street with a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. She felt lighter than she had in months, perhaps years; the relief she felt at having admitted her feelings for Minerva. Not in so many words, but the dynamic had changed between them, and was quickly blossoming into something beautiful. As if on cue, the door to the upper sitting room flung open, and Minerva entered; allowing Hermione to take in the entirety of her: she wore her usual black dress, yet less strict than before; the buttons reaching up her neck were no more, rather, the black material formed into a V, exposing soft, milky skin. To Hermione’s delight, she could make out just a bit of cleavage. She suspected too, that Minerva had transfigured her dress to become more form-fitting, hugging her narrow waist and curved hips. Minerva smirked at the way Hermione was freely staring at her, surprisingly at ease with it; perhaps even enjoying the attention.</p><p class="p1">«You are stunning.» Hermione commented easily, her eyes traveling over her body once more.</p><p class="p1">Minerva continued smiling, «So are you, dearest.»</p><p class="p1">Hermione scoffed and looked down at herself; her black slacks, upon which she wore a loosely fitted maroon silken blouse, one she hadn’t even bothered to button close, and underneath she wore a thinly strapped top, its V reaching quite low, exposing the lace underneath. She realised then, that it must’ve been what had caught Minerva’s attention. She smiled, reaching out her hand to Minerva, who took it, letting herself be pulled closer. Hermione was almost in awe; never before would <em>the </em>Minerva McGonagall have let herself be pulled close like that. She put down her cup of coffee, much rather wanting to taste Minerva’s lips. Rising, she felt Minerva’s hands on her waist, then one hand reaching up to stroke her cheek. Their lips met, a tongue teasing at the corner of her mouth; her teeth scarping Minerva’s bottom lip; and Hermione felt once more, the explosion of feeling; sending shivers up her spine, tingling her toes. Her fingers tangled in Minerva’s hair at the base of her bun, wanting to release it; her other hand travelling down her back, and over her backside, causing Minerva to chuckle into their kiss. They pulled apart slightly, resting their foreheads together, rather breathless. They stood for several seconds, perhaps minutes, unmoving, both wanting the preserve the moment. It was Minerva who pulled away first, however not in retreat like she had done before, but to regard her. Hermione felt as though naked, completely exposed to Minerva’s gaze, and felt heat rise in her cheeks.</p><p class="p1">Smoothing over apparent invisible creases in her dress, Minerva spoke, «We should be able to finish our task today.» she stated, referring to their weeks-long work of moving from room to room, safeguarding Number 12 Grimmauld Place into a home. The only remaining room was that which was directly above them; in which Sirius had kept Buckbeak while here. The were no apparent magical problems; no doxies, no boggarts, or blast-ended skrewts for that matter. However, as a large creature had indeed resided there, the smell had been rather foul, and Hermione had gagged. At that, Minerva had offered to do the task alone, stating that she was rather good at magic, and had some useful tricks up her sleeve. Though feeling quite guilty, she accepted the offer, and instead made her way to the kitchen downstairs, thankful to be away from the room. Once there, Kreatcher met her, looking at her expectantly. She smiled, «Hello, Kreatcher.» she had made a decision earlier that day, «If you like, Kreacher, I’ll let you leave a few days early, before term starts.» she started, watching the house-elf.</p><p class="p1">The elf’s face split into a rather strange grin, but she could tell he was grateful, «Thank you, Miss Granger. Kreathcer would like to return to Hogwarts, see Winky and the others.» his voice was as raspy as ever, but of a slightly higher pitch, his excitement evident.</p><p class="p1">Hermione chuckled, stating that he could leave whenever he wished, but could also return to Number 12 Grimmauld Place as he pleased, a house that would always remain his home. The house-elf bowed deeply, deeper than she had ever seen him do. He looked up at her, giving her a wink, and <em>pop,</em> he was gone. It was an idea that had formed in Hermione’s mind, she wanted to give the elf freedom to do as he wished; there was something to S.P.E.W. after all.</p><p class="p1">There was another reason too; she wanted to have the privacy with Minerva, she wanted to cook her a delicious meal, to really treat her.</p><p class="p1">Glancing at the time, Hermione sat herself to work; cooking had been a secret passion, one that she had nurtured during her time abroad. Tasting herself through the various cuisine’s; Italian, Spanish, French, and even further, the Moroccan and Japanese palates had become of her favourites. Her style of cooking had become entirely her own, often combining different flavours. She found herself a chopping board and a sharp knife; she preferred cooking without magic. Pulling together onions, garlic, chestnut mushrooms and fresh rosemary, she started chopping; it was almost therapeutic. With a wave of her wand, soft jazz music sounded in the kitchen, flowing out of the radio. Hermione gazed around the room, spotting bottles and bottles of wine, resting in a rack close to the fireplace. She picked out an Italian red, poured herself a glass, setting another at the table for Minerva. She resumed cooking, delicious smells wafting around the kitchen, hopefully reaching all the way to the top floor, tempting Minerva to join her.</p><p class="p1">Her instincts were correct; only a few minutes passed, and Minerva appeared next to her at the cooking stove, stroking her back, «Something smells wonderful.»</p><p class="p1">Hermione hummed in response, pouring heavy cream into the pan, it all coming together nicely, before looking over at Minerva, «There’s wine if you like.»</p><p class="p1">Minerva left her side, taking a seat at the dining table, the two of them engaging in easy small-talk while Hermione cooked.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">A while later, they sat opposite one another at the table, their plates empty and their wine glasses half-full. «That was divine, Hermione.» Minerva said, sighing in content leaning back in her chair.</p><p class="p1">Hermione took her in once more, her hair gathered somewhere in a loose bun, several strands of hair curling around her face. Cheeks were slightly flush from the effects of wine, and the part of her exposed chest covered in a thin gleam of sweat from the fire; in one word: beautiful. Minerva noticed her wandering eyes, «Alright there, Hermione?» she asked with a smile, and Hermione looked up with a start, slightly embarrassed. At the look in Minerva’s eyes, Hermione abandoned her unease, and rose from her chair. Her hand trailed behind her along the table, an attempt at changing the mood for a different kind of hunger. Minerva’s back straightened, and she swallows hard. Without a word, she extended her hand towards Minerva in invitation. Once pulled to her feet, Hermione closed the distance between them, kissing Minerva with earth-shattering effect. She couldn’t contain her desire, feeling the heat rise through her body, Minerva’s lips tasting better than any wine. She moaned when Minerva’s lips were on her jaw; her neck; and she realised they were both overcome with need.</p><p class="p1">Hermione pulled away reluctantly, «Would you take me upstairs?»</p><p class="p1">Minerva stared then, her eyes darkening irresistibly, «Oh, there are several things I would like to do.» she paused briefly, smirking, «To you.»</p><p class="p1">Hermione’s knees went weak, and at that, they walked quietly up the stairs, hand in hand.</p><p class="p1">Once upstairs, in the bedroom just deemed safe, Hermione closed the door behind them and cast a <em>muffliato</em>. Minerva arched an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. Another wave of her wand, and candles were lit all across the room, bathing Minerva in golden light: she was so beautiful. Hermione wanted this to be a physical act of love- <em>yes</em>, she thought in the back of her mind, <em>it’s so cheesy I could vomit. </em>But she understood why people said that, and she suddenly realised she hadn’t known a person to want this with. Confidence steadied her, and she approached Minerva gently, placing a hand at the centre of her chest. She let her hand travel up her neck, coming to rest on her cheek. After a moment of gazing into emerald eyes, she leaned in to the very inviting, slightly parted, pink lips. The kiss was gentle, yet filled with passion; Hermione let go of any reservation she might still hold, and she could tell Minerva had done the same. Understanding washed over them, and it couldn’t have been plainer to Hermione; she was in love with Minerva. She wanted to show her that, to demonstrate the strength of her feelings. Hands roamed freely now, and Hermione felt a hand stroking past her clothed breast; and she decided she wanted more. Parting from the kiss, but not moving away, she started unbuttoning Minerva’s robes and dress, each item of clothing pooling at her feet. She took care to gently opening each button, exposing more and more, soft, silky skin as she went; until she stood dressed only in her underwear, delicate laces cupping her full breasts. She just stood there for a moment, taking in the sight that was Minerva McGonagall, almost naked- soon to be at her mercy. Hermione leant in, reaching into Minerva’s hair, removing the hairpins. One by one, the dark locks fell out of its confines, resting past her shoulders.</p><p class="p1">Finding herself at the disadvantage, Hermione took a step back, slipping her shirt off her shoulders, pulling the top over her head, unzipping her trousers; completely undressing before Minerva’s eyes. Hermione didn’t feel the slightest tinge self-consciousness, not at the look of desire in Minerva’s eyes. Rather she felt wanted, desired. She closed the distance between them once more, pressing her body flush against Minerva’s, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Minerva found herself being pushed onto the large bed, unable, unwilling to resist. She gave in completely, relinquishing, no longer resisting how she felt. With every fibre of her being, she knew- she wanted <em>this</em>, she wanted Hermione and all that it entailed. This intense emotion she had been reluctant to place before, was love, and a burning desire. And <em>oh</em>, how much she wanted it now, right there for her to grasp.</p><p class="p1">Her mind emptied then, the sensation that was Hermione consuming her. Her own body being pushed down by naked skin upon hers; hot and wanting, clothes long discarded. Their lips meeting barely, each other’s breath panting against one another. Finally, their lips met truly, crashing, fighting for dominance. Hermione’s teeth gently grazing, pulling Minerva’s bottom lip in a way that caused her to moan. Lips abandoning her mouth, Minerva felt the woman above her kissing along her jaw, her neck, her collarbone; nipping and sucking slightly in places that made her wild with need: wanting more. Hermione’s touches were feather light, but of explosive effect; her hot tongue swiping over a nipple, causing Minerva to arch into the touch.</p><p class="p1">Minerva knew what she wanted, and that she wanted it now. Losing herself in the sensation, sparks flickered behind her eyelids, pleasure building within. Hermione’s hands were everywhere at once, her lips skillfully roaming all over Minerva’s body; setting it on fire. Anticipation grew until Hermione was where most wanted. Another light touch, and Minerva’s body reacted instantly; that delicious feeling forming, increasing. Hermione obliged, and soon, Minerva tumbled over the edge, the sparks turning into fireworks, erupting- causing her body to shudder with pleasure.</p><p class="p1">A moment passed, and Minerva became aware of her other senses, watching as Hermione made her way up her body, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake. She settled next to her, lying on her side, and Minerva hadn’t seen anything more beautiful. She lifted a finger, and drew it from Hermione’s shoulder, down her arm, over her hip; how utterly stunning. Minerva didn’t need time to recover, she wanted to claim Hermione, uncovering every secret of the body before her; pulling her in. She smirked slightly at the thought; she knew she was, <em>skilled in the art of pleasing a woman</em>, and she could hardly wait to see Hermione squirm beneath her. No further words were exchanged as Minerva resumed her endeavour. Hermione’s skin was soft as silk, its slightly olive tone enhanced in the candlelight. She relished in feeling Hermione react to her touch; her response as arousing as being touched by her. With an experienced balance of more delicate touches, and other more forceful ones: a flick of her tongue here, a twist of a nipple there, fingernails dragging through her hair; Minerva soon had Hermione where she wanted her: begging for more. The woman writhing of mounting pleasure beneath was a goddess, thought Minerva, and who was she to deny her anything. So Minerva gave in, coming up to look her in the eyes, coaxing, as she added pressure. It was exactly what Hermione needed, and she too, met hot release letting out a soft cry in her rapture. Minerva held her as she came, looking into Hermione’s eyes as her pupils dilated in ecstasy.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The two of them lay in a tangle of limbs, bodies flush with the remnants of heat. It was the most content either woman had felt in years. The shadow of tragedy and loss had lifted momentarily- not left, but allowing them to gleam in the light. For one could emerge from shadow to bathe in the sun. That was how it felt: warmth easily, effortlessly, spreading throughout the entirety of them. The tension within their hearts eased, filling with something neither had felt in so long: <em>love</em>. It was unconditional and unrelenting; yet, they had been unaware. That is the way of true love, it winds its way into a heart before it does the brain. It pushes and pulls, until they can no longer resist, apprehension washing over them; and then, <em>utopia</em>. And as Hermione and Minerva gazed deep into each other’s eyes, it was this realisation that came to them, and they were bound forever.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong> <em>-THE END-</em> </strong>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you very much for reading- I'd be very happy to hear your thoughts!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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